


If You Need Me

by AlexiaHalloran



Category: Jessica Jones (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alcoholic Jessica Jones, Angst, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Dark, Declarations Of Love, Depression, Drunkenness, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Guilt, Hurt Jessica Jones, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Character Death, New York City, Past Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Hatred, Survivor Guilt, Sweet, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, Unresolved Emotional Tension, maybe I guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-23 23:14:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19711471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexiaHalloran/pseuds/AlexiaHalloran
Summary: He's gone and she knows it. Is glad about it, and yet his memory still haunts her. Drives her to drink until she can't tell up from sideways and the world begins to defy physics.Or, Jessica has so much guilt it might very well kill her.





	If You Need Me

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the scene at the end of Episode 11 (season 2) and the line "I'll be around if you need me."  
> Also I wrote this at 3AM and totally didn't check if for typos and spelling errors so sorry if u find any.  
> And a trigger warning for serious alcoholism, PTSD/trauma, and anxiety, if the tags didn't already get that across.

The world blurred in streaks of yellow and neon and purple that twisted sideways into spirals as her body folded in half and the floor gave way to watery docks that wobbled when she moved and sent spirals of rippling concrete across the alleyway; the buildings that rose over her didn’t stand tall but folded in over her head as she fell downwards into the wall that curved so elegantly over the dumpster. 

Purple streetlights thundered in the passing wake of myriad red taillights on their way to unknown destinations that echoed far off, washed through by the neon glare of storefront signs and billboard ads that leered down at her as she stumbled forwards on shaking legs that couldn’t remember from where they were coming or where they were heading.

Purple streetlights that coalesced into a single shadowed form that stood at the end of the alley - the tall skinny silhouette of a man in a tailored suit with neatly combed hair and his hands in his pockets. 

Rapist. Murderer. Abuser. Killer. Manipulator. Bastard. Asshole. British asshole. Suave asshole. 

Her right knee gave out from under her and she tumbled to a ground furrowed by deep shadows. Concrete scraped against her palm and she grunted, cheek coming down to meet the rising floor as he body landed with a thud. 

“Oh Jessica.”

That voice. 

“What do you want?” She muttered into the concrete. 

“Oh my dear Jessica.”

His voice, so soft and silky as it whispered its way through her mind. Polished leather shoes stopped before her, topped by the ironed hems of eggplant-coloured trousers. 

Hems that lifted to reveal purple socks as he bent down to meet her as her body twisted against the concrete that swayed beneath her as it rocked against the endless waves of the universe moving on around her. 

A hand caressed the top of her head, fingers slipping gently through her ratty hair as he cooed her name in that mellifluous voice of his that wrapped around her as his arms did, pulling her into his lap; resting her head against his chest as he stroked her cheek. 

“Jessica, darling, you can’t keep running. It’s going to kill you.”

“Shut up.” 

Words said without force or conviction, through the hailstorms of tears that ran from her face as she curled her fingers into the lapel of his suit. Felt the stubble of his chin come to rest against her forehead as he curled her tighter against him, the pad of his thumb stroking across her cheekbone; the building opposite them folding in onto itself as her vision blurred again. 

“Well we can’t have you dead, can we? Such a loss of beauty.”

“Shut up.” She groaned, wrapping one of her hands around the arm that encircled her torso. 

“Shut up shut up shut up!”

She was shouting, shouting into thin air at the delusion of the man she had killed. Curled in a grimy alley, so drunk that things spiraled and tipped whenever she blinked, she was screaming her lungs out at her own delusions. 

All 6’1” of lanky British bastard; gone forever because of her. Phantom bones cracked between her fingers as he neck snapped again. Again and again and again, because bastard as he was, his was still a life lost. 

“I’m so sorry. Oh god I’m so sorry.”

His thumb brush the flood of tears from her cheek as he pressed a kiss to her forehead, “I know, Jessica. And I forgive you.”

“No. No you can’t forgive me I’m a monster. A monster. Monster…”

A monster who had killed without a second thought. She’d killed more than once. There were three people dead because of her, and countless hours lost of untold stories and lives yet to have been lived that would never see the light of day because she could not control herself. 

“You are no more a monster than I am, love.”

Love. His love. 

“Don’t.”

And he vanished, leaving her cold and alone, shaking and sobbing and heaped against a rough brick wall. 

“Don’t!” Sound tore from her lips before she could think, desperation echoing off the walls of the concrete jungle around her as she grasped at the thin air. Suddenly falling. Hands closing around the space where his arm had been. The air in her chest suddenly constricting her as she floundered helplessly, her hand falling and shattering the concrete as she flailed forwards, searching for his touch. 

“Don’t leave me!”

Even to her the words sounded pitiful, wrenched from her lips as the world constricted and blackened around her, falling, losing…

“I would never.”

Grasping long fingers that held her hand tightly, pulling her upright as he leaned her against him. Steadying her as her breath returned and her vision cleared of spots, returning to spiraled colors.

Long and elegant fingers, so much like the rest of him, that wrapped around her small hand looking so delicate in his grasp as he escorted her along the alley.  
Out into the bright chaos of the street. She turned her head against his shoulder and let him lead her blindly down the street, breathing in the faint scent of patchouli and hair gel mixed with fabric softener and what might have been lavender. Mixed with the stench of sweat and alcohol and carbon monoxide as they passed beneath another streetlight that twisted out of her way as she stumbled sideways, his arm stretching out to catch her by the waist, to pull her back into his warm embrace. 

Somewhere along the way, they left the street and turned into a box. A box that gleamed and twinkled as it whirred along, taking them somewhere else. 

A door. There was a door now. A door that had words written on it in letters that she couldn’t make out. She reached for the handle, locked or not, only have his hand circle her wrist, pulling her arm back to them.

His hand slipped into her pocket, fingers pressing against her thigh as he slid her keys from her pocket and into the lock. 

Behind the door there was mostly darkness that seemed to crackle and fizz with spotty light as they stumbled through it. Around a corner. 

She was falling, falling, landing. Landing on something soft and familiar. Then he was behind her, leaning her useless body against his chest as he unzipped her jacket. 

“Let me help you.”

Soothing hands worked the jacket from her shoulders, setting it neatly aside. They slid down to the hem of her shirt, lingering for just the slightest moment as she dropped her head back and pleaded.

“Help me.”

“My dear Jessica. My darling Jessica. I will always help you." Whispered words from lips so close to her ear as he slid her shirt up, expertly sliding it over her head. 

The faintest of touches across her bare stomach as he unfastened her jeans. He slid out from behind her, laying her gently back against the bed as he worked her jeans from her hips. 

She stared up at him as his dark eyes flickered quickly across her body. His face was lit so hazily by the distant streetlights filtering through the window that he seemed to glow. 

His eyes left hers and he turned away, returning infinite moments later with a t-shirt clutched in one hand. A T-shirt that he shook out. Sitting beside her, he pulled her upright, resting her against his shoulder as he guided her arms into the proper places. Made sure her head came out the top. And then he scooped her into his arms and laid her beneath the covers.

She watched him as he stood over her, fingers lingering near the buttons on his suit almost as if he was daring to ask her permission.

“Don’t leave me again.” She sobbed, voice cracking over the words.

“I never left you, Jess.” His fingers slid the buttons loose and he shrugged off his suit jacket, laying it over the back of her chair.

“I never would. I love you, Jessica Jones, whether you believe me or not.”  
His tie joined his jacket as he slipped off his shoes, perching on the edge of the bed as he shoved his legs under the covers. 

She stared at him as he slid down until his head rested on the pillow, crooked nose highlighted by the dingy glow of the streetlamp. Her eyes were heavy, already falling shut as she curled up against him, breathing in the smell of her linens mingled with his patchouli and lavender. 

“I know.” She murmured as she pressed her tear-stained cheek against his chest; the fabric of his shirt so soft against her skin. His hand came to rest gently against her shoulder as he looked down at her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, “You do.”

And the faintest hint of a smile crept over her lips as her addled mind fell asleep in the cradling embrace of the man she’d loved and killed.


End file.
